


Triple Shot Tingle

by chrysalisdreams



Series: Grimm Dark Coffeehouse [2]
Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Short Film)
Genre: Abuse of Barista Power, DHMIS 3, Love, Multi, Padlock, humanized characters, more of the coffeehouse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4217010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrysalisdreams/pseuds/chrysalisdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manny is stuck working at the coffeehouse while Crowe and Harry are out enjoying their chicken picnic when a customer imposes his views on meeting "that special one."</p><p>Posted to celebrate the decision by the Supreme Court of the United States ruling on marriage equality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triple Shot Tingle

 

“I like my women like I like my coffee,” Tony teased Paige, stealing a kiss. “Sweet and warm.”

Paige giggled. She didn’t snuggled up against Tony. Neither Paige nor Tony seemed to care if the staff and customers witnessed their displays of affection. Manny wondered if the two managers were aware how saccharine their new relationship was. They used to be as separate as day and night. Since they had become a couple, Tony had started arriving earlier, or Paige had stayed later, so that their time could overlap on a daily basis.

He couldn’t ignore their infatuated manner toward each other, and he couldn’t run away, because he was stuck on shift for the next few hours. Meanwhile, Heri and Crowe were off enjoying the beautiful day at their neighborhood’s community picnic in the park, celebrating the day’s historic, fabulous news. So unfair. Manny could just cry from thinking about it.

Paige was just on her way out. “I’m going to miss you, Baby,” she cooed breathily at Tony.

“Pigeon, I’ll be counting the minutes until I see you again,” Tony murmured back.

They kissed again, long and lingering, and then Paige strolled out of the espresso bar. As she traveled out the door, a customer passed her coming in, and Tony disappeared into the office.

The customer, a man that Manny found kind of attractive, fluttered up to the counter. Looking from the closed office door to Paige departing, he commented, “That’s love, my friend.”

Manny shrugged.

“I hope you don’t mind if I asked you a question?” the man asked.

“Sure, go ahead. But can I ask you one, first?” He knew he was flirting. The guy was short, with an intense energy, like a big personality compacted into a small body. His eyes bugged out a little, but he had a nice smile.

“What would you like to ask, friend?”

“What kind of drink can I get you?”

The man laughed as if delighted. “Of course. I’ll have a grande mocha, thanks.”

If the man had been interested, Manny thought, he would have answered something like, ‘How about a cocktail,” turning the question around into an invitation to a date. It was a clear opening. He couldn’t have missed it. “Can I get your name?” Manny asked, anyway, selecting a paper cup and holding a sharpie marker at the ready.

“Shrignold,” the man answered. He spelled out the odd name while Manny wrote it on the cup. “Better make it decaf. Please,” he added as an afterthought. He handed Manny his credit card to pay. “I don’t think anyone’s going to take it by mistake. I’m your only customer. You must be lonely in here.”

“I’m alright,” Manny answered. He poured some milk to steam for the mocha. “I can read the newspaper.” He indicated the copy on the counter. He and Crowe liked to browse through Right Wing to laugh at the propaganda.

“Don’t you ever get tired of all the hatred in the world?” Shrignold asked him. “Wouldn’t you much rather learn about love?”

“What is love?” Manny asked, waxing philosophical and melodramatic. “Is it in the sky? Or in fresh air? Or at a chicken picnic?”

“Love,” Shrignold answered seriously, “is a feeling of community. Friendship, and doing good for others. You want to make a difference in this hate filled world, don’t you?”

“I want civil rights,” Manny answered, taking the question seriously. “Justice for people. I’m hungry for it.”

Shrignold shook his head, smiling mildly. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re lonely. You should come meet my friends. We have a welcoming community of support and caring. Come see what real love is all about.”

Manny answered. “I have friends that I love. I love my Dad. I love a lot of things, like--”

“No, no, no. That’s not how it’s done,” Shrignold laughed, a light laugh as if to excuse the way he interrupted. “What about meeting your special one?”

Manny’s thought he would laugh, but for some reason he didn’t. “I have a ‘special one’?”

“Everyone has a special one,” Shrignold replied. “I know a nice girl you should meet. I think you’d like her.”

“Um, you’re barking up the wrong tree, there,” Manny answered. “I’m not interested. Hope you’re not homophobic,” he added

Shrignold’s smile didn’t falter. “But love is between a man and a woman,” he stated. “That’s how it’s meant to be.”

Manny shrugged.

“If you come listen to Malcolm speak, I think you’ll understand that you’re confused. You’ll change your mind.”

Manny focused on making Shrignold’s mocha.

Shrignold persisted. “Let me put it another way,” he said. Then he began to tell a story that didn’t have any obvious connection to the conversation they had been having. He droned on and on, smiling and nodding at Manny while telling the story as if Manny were still listening.

Manny tipped out the shot glasses and tamped new grounds into the metal filter. He pulled two more shots while Shrignold continued talking.

Manny poured a pattern of small circles in the mocha. Using the thermometer stem, he drew through the circles to create small heart shapes -- or ivy leaves -- depending on how the customer wanted to see them. He pushed the coffee drink across the counter to Shrignold.

“So you see, everyone has a special one.” He nodded at the office, where Tony sat at the desk, a vague expression on his face as he looked at the wall. “He’s made for her, and she’s made for him. Like a flower, it grows and grows. And it’s protected with a ring,” he added with a knowing wink. He took a long sip of his coffee.”Ooh, that’s a bit of a dark roast, isn’t it?” He took another drink and seemed to enjoy it.

The image of Tony and Paige standing in front of priest and saying their wedding vows popped into Manny’s head unbidden. It was too clear of a picture: Paige and Tony in a church, maybe even Shrignold’s church. They were a couple of weirdos. Manny could see them being part of some kind of conservative-values love cult.

Shrignold had started to look more bug-eyed than before. He put his hand up to his chest. “Hm. My heart is beating like a big love drum,” he mused aloud. He looked around for a garbage can where he could toss out his empty cup. He failed to get the cups into the trash can. He had some trouble picking it up off the floor because his hands trembled. His laughter at his own difficulty came out shaky and high-pitched.

He sat down for a moment at one of the tables, as if to catch his breath. In a matter of seconds, he jumped up to his feet again, unable to sit still.

“Well, off to worship,” he giggled. “Worship our king. King Malcolm. He’s the king of love.” His speech was clipped, the words stumbling out of his mouth. “We must feed him. Or he gets angry,” he mumbled. “Gravel,” he said as he fluttered out the door.

“By the way,” Manny said while Shrignold was still in earshot, “The United States Supreme Court confirmed marriage equality this morning. So you’d better get used to the idea that ‘she’s made for her’ and ‘he’s made for him,’ too.” He was still smiling to himself after the bells on the front door finished jingling.

=

 

 

 


End file.
